from the heart of jerusalem: rabbi binny freedman

In narrowness of our lives, finding both space and answers

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How could anyone have thought this fellow was suited to be a gunner? His name was Shachar, which means the dawn, and the joke was that with him around it was always dawn, because he blotted out the sun. He was a massive fellow, and watching him squeeze into the gunner’s seat, the smallest, most confined place in the tank, deep in the belly of the turret, was a sight to behold. One would think with such a fellow sharing your tank, there would be a lot less room to breathe, but in fact the opposite was true. Somehow, his sharp sense of humor, and his always twinkling smile, made it seem like there was lots of room, and late at night when the maneuvers were done, guys would end up hanging out in our tank to shoot the breeze with Shachar.

Sometimes nine or ten guys would be crowded on and in the tank, sharing a good laugh. At the end of the week, back on base, the room I shared with a different group of guys seemed a lot smaller than the tiny tank turret we all had to maneuver around in. 

In the winter, out in the field, it is incredibly depressing to have to sleep in the tanks. The desert nights where we were training are bitter cold, and finding a spot in and around the tank to stretch out in was always extremely challenging. The best place to sleep, strange as it may sound, was usually (barring rain) out on the “sipun,” or flat rear of the tank, on top of the engine. Long after the tank went quiet, the heat of the engine kept the exterior of the tank warm, which made for a cozy night’s sleep.

Somehow, Shachar had figured out a way for all four of us to sleep out on the sipun. I thought this was a great trick, and made sure to watch how we slept as I thought it would be a great trick to share with my crew one day as an officer. But years later, as hard as I tried, I was never able to replicate Shachar’s feat, which is especially strange considering how much space Shachar himself must have taken up. In fact, one night, in trying to arrange my crew in just such a manner, I nearly rolled off the tank, sleeping bag and all!

I guess space isn’t about where you are; it is somehow connected to who you are.

The second of this week’s portions, Massei, seems to be all about space — lots of it.

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